IN THE BRIEF COOL SPELL that residents of Hong Kong rather fancifully call winter, a log fire burns welcomingly in the large, square, high-ceilinged living room of Mr. and Mrs. Adrian Zecha's home. A fire in Hong Kong is something comparatively rare, and as a result, makes an unusual impression on guests more used to various forms of central heating or even, since the season is so short, the humble electric radiator. Turning from the leaping flames to the large window, their many guests who are new to Hong Kong can hardly refrain from a gasp of astonishment at the incredible view.
The apartment is duplex with a roof terrace, one of only sixteen in a small block high up on The Peak, the soaring little mountain that springs from the harbor waters and the stalagmites of city blocks far below. Much -- perhaps too much -- has been written about the view of the Hong Kong Grand Harbour. The lack of composition in the magnitude of the actual view, however, is subjected to selection within the frame of the Zecha's living room window, and is seen as it might be on the canvas of a painter, showing only what is typical about the harbor - an essential image without the excess and the sprawling grandeur of the whole.
Not surprisingly, this fact is reflected in, and related to, the interior of the house and its contents as the Zechas and their interior designer conceived them. "We like to live in an amiable place," says Adrian Zecha, glancing at his wife as he selects the proper adjective. "We both dislike a 'decorator' look. We are serious collectors, and we love the things we have. We are always trying to refine the collection down to the major and most attractive pieces."
When they found the apartment, it was not yet complete. "But what we saw was large empty spaces -- a big shell." And that was what attracted them both, the possibilities, rather than the finite reality. "We looked around for an interior designer and finally turned to a young and extremely talented Filipino named Jun Alday." And with him they found that they could work constructively as team of three. "He has a marvelous clean sort of taste, and this exactly suited us. We looked long and hard at the spaces and then quite literally placed the works of art we wanted in the positions we wanted them to occupy -- to scale, on the plans. The final design was done entirely around the collections."
The obvious danger in this approach is the "museum look,"
happily completely avoided in the unstudied living room and dining room areas. The entrance hall strikes a warm wood-paneled note. A Ceylonese-Dutch sofa occupies a space designed for it under a large Udaipur Indian painting on cloth, of the eternally youthful lover-god Krisna. "In acquiring works of art," says Adrian Zecha, "we've always first considered what we feel to be the major cultural contribution of each country to the art heritage of the East. So we chose Indian wood sculpture rather than Chinese, and Indian stone sculpture and that of the Khmer -- and, of course, Indian miniature and also Tantric painting."
Echoing the entrance hall to the living room, a wide but short passage leads from the latter to the dining room. One wall has a large showcase that stands empty. "So far, we've found nothing that seems exactly right for it," says Mrs. Zecha. "But I'm sure we will!" The dining room itself is simple almost to the point of bareness. A round Jehol table, of a type that displays the richness of Chinese marquetry at its best, occupies center stage. A not-very-large Korean palace screen is on one wall, while another wall has a Tantric Indian painting. A huge and very touchable horse's head of wood, part of an ancient chariot of the gods, used ceremonially in East and South India, graces the window alcove.
When not entertaining, the Zechas live upstairs. The long room there, running the whole width of the apartment, is both sleeping and living area, divisible by retractable screens as required. The brass four-poster bed is concealed in an alcove off the main area. The remaining large space is modulated by what, in comparison with the arrangements downstairs, appear to be numerous objects -- from books to comfortable sofas and chairs. While the character of the downstairs rooms is certainly neither cold nor formal, the upstairs rooms -- including the combination bedroom/playroom of their son, and a guest room -- have a kind of intimacy that belongs with family life.
With her own combination of wit and realism, Mrs. Zecha suspends the elegant collection of ethnic jewelry, which she prefers to more Western adornment, from slender bamboo rails against a mirror wall. Adjacent is a treasure trove of Asian silver of surprising variety that she has gathered over the years.
Adrian Zecha has one of the rare definitive Annamese porcelain collections in private hands -- each piece the end product not only of the special skills of the ancient potters of North Vietnam, but also the result of his own persistence in upgrading the collection. Indeed, Jun Alday contructed a small museum specifically to house it. Here, ideally displayed, are not only great Annamese pieces, but also selected examples from the gamut of Chinese Export wares once shipped all over Asia and far beyond.
The "museum" is one area not seen by most visitors. In Asia, collectors tend to show their treasures only to those who have some knowledge of the subject. Even then, only a part of the collection is displayed at any one time. Once again the analogy between the view selected by the frame of the window from that larger and less composed view comes to mind. For in this array of ceramics the accent falls decisively on the refinement of choice. Ultimately, the Zechas say, they want to simply living, and not to be prisoners of their possessions. Surely, in the arrangement of their apartment in Hong Kong, they have almost achieved that commendable goal.
IN THE BRIEF COOL SPELL that residents of Hong Kong rather fancifully call winter, a log fire burns welcomingly in the large, square, high-ceilinged living room of Mr. and Mrs. Adrian Zecha's home. A fire in Hong Kong is something comparatively rare, and as a result, makes an unusual impression on guests more used to various forms of central heating or even, since the season is so short, the humble electric radiator. Turning from the leaping flames to the large window, their many guests who are new to Hong Kong can hardly refrain from a gasp of astonishment at the incredible view.
